


If I die, I'm never speaking to you again

by stormthedarkcity



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormthedarkcity/pseuds/stormthedarkcity
Summary: Dorian is perplexed by Iyandrar Lavellan's habit to eat whatever he finds in the forest.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	If I die, I'm never speaking to you again

“I don’t know why you do that.”

Iyandrar pauses before the fruit reaches his lips. “Do what?” He sinks his teeth into it, sucking up the sweet juice before it can run down his chin.

“That!” Dorian gestures at his hand. “Plucking up whatever’s on your path and eating it! It truly is a miracle you haven’t gotten sick yet. Don’t we have enough food at camp?”

Iyandrar laughs, taking another bite of the fruit. “I’m hungry now, though! And I know the forests, and what I should and shouldn’t eat.” He grimaces. “Although there was some trial and errors involved.”

He nibbles at the warm fruit to the stone, and throws it back towards the bushes when there’s nothing left.

“Here.” He steps off to the side to walk to a small tree, and plucks a white, fuzzy fruit from it.

He hands it to Dorian, who shakes his head furiously.

“I am **not** eating this.”

Iyandrar just smiles, eyes falling half shut as he slowly brings the fruit to his mouth and takes one small bite of it, his lips closing delicately around the flesh.

“You should,” he says once he’s chewed and swallowed. “It’s very good.”

Dorian makes an annoyed sound, low in his throat, but he closes his hand around Iyandrar’s and pulls the fruit toward him.

“If I die, I’m never speaking to you again,” he declares, before leaning in a taking a bite.

The frown on his face slowly eases as he chews, replaced by something like content. He hums, an unconscious kind of sound, and smiles faintly.

“These are only ripe for a few days a year,” Iyandrar explains. “We call them the Blessings of Ghilan'nain, the mother of the Halla, because they’re white like them, and they’re meant to appear on our path only if we treat our Halla right.”

He inclines his head.

“Do you like it?”

Dorian licks his lips clean and smiles down at him, a hand darting to tuck Iyandrar’s hair behind his ear. “It’s very good. You are full of surprises, Amatus.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill for [Tumblr](https://stormthedarkcity.tumblr.com/post/182397790828/)


End file.
